Duality
by Ph0enixS0ng
Summary: Erestor, Elrond's head advisor, led two different lives - one around his closest friends and the other around everyone else. So when a beautiful stranger enters his life, which person will he choose to be? Erestor, Glorfindel slash
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **_Duality_

**Author:** _AznEyes (Co-written with Jackal)_

**Rated: T**

**Genre: **Drama Romance

**Disclaimer:** Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien

**Summary: **Erestor, Elrond's head advisor, led two different lives—one around his closest friends, and the other around everyone else. So when a beautiful stranger enters his life, which person will he choose to be? Erestor, Glorfindel slash

**Author's Note: **_I don't remember too much about the history of Middle Earth, for it has been some time since I last read the books, but I tried my best! _

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**Chapter 1.0**

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Good and evil…

Sun and moon…

Water and fire…

Everything was composed of a duality, opposites, each concept of dark countered by a stream of light.

Erestor was the personification of "duality, for he led two different lives—one around his closest friends, and the other around everyone else. To many, he was naught more than the Chief Advisor of Lord Elrond, an experienced, rather intimidating intellectual of high status in the hierarchy of Rivendell. But to some, he was a comfortable presence—a strong, supportive friend and ally.

It was this second lifestyle that he chose to show to Elrond and his family as they conversed over dinner one night.

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Chapter 1.1 

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'Good evening, Erestor,' Celebrian, the lady of the household, greeted him as he entered their private dining area, which the family used on occasion to escape the nightly madness of the Hall of Fire. 'I am pleased to see that you have decided to join us for dinner this eve.'

'Good evening, Celebrian,' Erestor said in turn, taking the seat across from her at the round table. 'And yes, I have. I could not help but accept your husband's invitation. I would be honoured to share the evening meal with you and your family.'

Just then, the twins entered the room, their identical, flushed faces revealing their exertion. Elrohir ran in breathlessly, apparently chased by Elladan, for the latter appeared shortly after.

'Elrohir, Elladan,' Celebrian said sternly, yet kindly. 'What have I told you about running in the house?'

The children flashed her a sheepish grin.

'Sorry, mama.'

She smiled.

'And where is your father?'

'Er . . .' The twins glanced at the empty doorway, where Elrond appeared a moment later.

'You defeated me!' he exclaimed, pretending to be as breathless as his sons were. 'Since when have my sons been able to best me in a race?'

'Since Uncle Glorfindel started playing with us,' Elrohir said. 'He is so much fun to be with!'

'Aye,' Elladan agreed excitedly. 'He sometimes takes us to the Bruinen and swims with us.'

'And sometimes he takes us horseback riding, although he only allows us to ride the little ones.'

'Then other times, he just brings us out into the courtyard and tells us stories, which is still fun, nevertheless.'

'He is very knowledgeable, papa,' Elrohir said, suddenly sounding older than he appeared to be. 'He tells us about the birds and the flowers . . .'

'. . . about trees and rocks . . .'

'And about many others things besides!'

'He is truly wonderful!'

'Is he now?' Erestor asked, speaking for the first time.

As if just realizing that he was there, which they probably had, the elflings' eyes widened in disbelief.

'Uncle Erestor!' they exclaimed in unison, running over to embrace him.

'Boys . . .' Celebrian warned.

But the twins paid her no heed, for they were much too busy squeezing all the air out of their Uncle Erestor's lungs.

'Now, now, boys, that is enough,' Elrond said with a laugh. 'I do believe that Uncle Erestor is having some difficulty breathing.'

The children immediately let go, allowing Erestor to breathe freely once more.

'Thank you, Lord Elrond,' Erestor said with a smile.

Elrond sighed.

'How many times have I told you to call me "Elrond",' he said in exasperation. 'We have known each other for countless years, yet you insist upon placing my title along with my name. Such status does not define whom I am.'

'I know, my lord, but it is a force of habit,' Erestor admitted.

Elrond rolled his eyes.

'Well, I believe that it is rather cute,' Celebrian said, grinning.

'Oh, is that so, dear?' Elrond asked, taking his seat beside her. 'Then why have you asked him to call you "Celebrian"?' Then he turned to Erestor. 'And why have you agreed to it so readily?' he accused playfully.

'Oh, but I did not,' Erestor told him.

'Pardon?'

'He speaks the truth, husband,' Celebrian said, affectionately kissing the other elf's cheek. 'I threatened to spear him with a fork if he did not.'

Elrond laughed.

'Is that so? Will the same threat work for me, Erestor?' he asked.

'Really, Elrond,' Celebrian said, pretending to scold him. 'I am sure that you are more diplomatic than that. Do not use such basic threats. Besides,' she said, smiling, 'I thought of it first.'

'But you have to share, mama,' Elladan said, having taken a seat beside Erestor.

'Yes,' Elrohir agreed, sitting down on the other side of his twin. 'You have always taught us that everybody should share.'

Celebrian laughed.

'I was merely teasing, young ones,' she told them, 'but you are right—everybody should share. It is a lesson that I will not soon forget.'

'Neither will we!'

_Ding._

A bell rang from somewhere, signaling the start of dinner. From one of the side doors leading into the dining room, a line of servants began to file in, each laying a dish in the centre of the table.

'This looks divine, as always,' Celebrian said to the head servant. 'Be sure to give my compliments to the chef.'

'I shall do that, my lady,' the she-elf replied before she and her companions disappeared once more.

'Wow! They made tomato soup!' Elladan exclaimed.

'It has been so long since we last had that!' Elrohir said.

'Then do not let is be any longer, elflings,' Elrond said, tipping the serving ladle in their direction. 'Let us begin.'

So they did.

'So, tell me more about your Uncle Glorfindel,' Erestor said amiably as he spooned some potatoes onto his plate. 'His reputation precedes him.'

'Do you not know anything about him?' Elrohir asked innocently.

'Only that which I know from his past and his documents—naught else, so I would have your personal opinion of him if you are willing to share it.'

The twins puffed out their chests, apparently feeling important.

'He is very kind,' Elladan said.

'And a great archer. He was able to shoot a target from all the way across the field!'

'That is impressive,' Erestor said.

'Aye, and he runs as fast as a mare.'

'And he is very patient as well,' Elrohir added.

'He must be to be able to look after you little rascals all day,' Celebrian teased.

'Have you met him as well, Celebrian?' Erestor asked her.

'Briefly,' she said. 'When I was searching for the twins outside, I came across the three of them playing. At least, I _think_ that they were playing.' She giggled. 'They kept grunting and waving their arms about in a ridiculous fashion.'

'We were pretending to be trolls, mama,' Elladan said.

'But you have never even seen a troll,' Elrond reminded him.

'Which is why it was so much fun!' Elrohir said gleefully.

'I am afraid that I do not understand.'

'Since we have never seen one,' the elfling explained, 'then we could imagine that they were anything that we wanted to be.'

'Aye, I imagined that they have pink wings, yet they are as able to fly as a turnip is.'

'And I pretended that they have arms like jelly, which wobble and shake whenever they move.'

The three elder elves could not help but laugh as the twins gestured about with the arms (as much as the limited space at the table permitted, anyway).

'And Uncle Glorfindel truly went along with this?' Celebrian asked, although it was clear that she already knew the answer.

'Aye, he even joined in!'

'That is when you saw him grunting, mama,' Elladan said with a squeal of laughter.

Upon reading his transcripts, Erestor believed that Glorfindel was a hardened warrior, one who would never give in to the antics of little elflings. Apparently, he was wrong.

'He sounds wonderful,' Erestor said. 'I do hope that I will be able to meet him. Perhaps when you two begin your lessons, I will finally be able to.'

'But that will not be for years yet, Uncle Erestor,' Elrohir said. 'I am certain that he would be happy to meet you, so do not wait for so long.

'You simply _must _meet him soon,' Elladan said with an air of command. 'That is an order from the future lords of Rivendell.' He placed an arm around his brother and they smiled up at the elder elf with triumph.

'Well, you cannot refuse a direct order from the future lords of Rivendell,' Elrond said with a grin.

'He is very pleasant company, Erestor,' Celebrian said. 'It is rather a pity to have waited so long already. He has been here for a few months now.'

'Aye, but he has doubtless been busy with his troops,' Elrond reminded her. 'His job is to train elves in the arts of war, not gallivant after the twins.'

'Another pity,' she said playfully. 'Well, perhaps we can invite him to dinner sometime.'

'That is an excellent idea!' Elrond said. 'And Erestor as well!'

'How about tomorrow night?' she asked Erestor.

'I am afraid that I have some business to attend to tomorrow night,' he apologized.

'Then the next night.'

'I have to help prepare rooms for the dignitaries from Lothlorien, for I will be too busy during the day to do so at any earlier time.'

'Then have Melpomaen arrange the rooms for you,' Elrond said. 'Really, Erestor, you must learn to delegate more work to others.'

'But I do not wish to burden them, as I have mentioned to you before.'

'It is their job, Erestor. I am sure that they will not mind.'

'Well . . . I suppose I can have Melpomaen do it,' he said, giving in. 'But, unfortunately, I cannot delegate any of my other work, for my charges have yet to receive the proper training for such.'

'They will receive that in due time. That said . . . you are now free on that night, so you may join us for dinner and finally meet the famed Glorfindel.' He winked at the twins.

'Oh, you _have_ to come, Uncle Erestor!' Elladan urged.

'It would mean so much to us!' Elrohir added.

Erestor sighed, emphasizing his defeat for the children's sake.

'I am outnumbered, so I relent to join you for dinner, elflings.'

'Yay!' the twins cheered.

'On one condition.'

'What is that?' Elrond asked.

'That we have tomato soup again!'

'It is done.'

'Yay!' the elflings cheered louder.

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Chapter 1.7 

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After politely excusing himself from the dinner table some time afterward, Erestor returned to his rooms to take a long, luxurious bath. The day's work had taken its toll on him and it was all he could do to politely appear more awake than he had actually felt while dining with Elrond and his family. Sighing, he leaned his head back against the edge of the tub and reflected upon what he had thus far discovered about the new elf in the city.

Glorfindel . . .

He had once been the mate of Ecthelion, although that was in a different life. For many millennia, he had lived Gondolin, a city by the sea, where he was already a notorious warrior. He had lost that same life to a Balrog sometime later, after the fall of Gondolin.

Then he was born again.

Now, Glorfindel was still the warrior that he once was. According to the twins, he was a very kindly elf. It was clear that they enjoyed spending time with him, however long the time intervals were between their meetings, for Glorfindel was quite busy with the new troops. Other than that, the other elf was still a complete stranger to Erestor.

"Two days," he told himself. "Then I shall know for sure."

He started suddenly when he heard a strange sound outside, as if someone was blowing on embers to bring out its flames.

'What are you doing?' a voice asked.

Erestor twisted around, craning his neck so that he would be able to see out of the window and identify the individuals. Even from the distance, his elven eyesight permitted him to recognize Prince Legolas in the semi-darkness. The prince had arrived some days ago, representing his father and Mirkwood for the conference, which was to take place within the next week. He was still young by elven standards, but a wise elf and a practiced warrior.

The prince's companion had blond hair as well. The majority of Rivendell's subjects had dark hair, not those fair tones; Erestor knew the few blond elves that resided there, but did not recognize the one congregating outside of his bedroom. Thus, the advisor assumed that it was one of the elves from Mirkwood, perhaps an individual from Legolas' entourage.

'Prince Legolas,' the other elf greeted him. 'It is a fine night, is it not?'

'Aye, it is, my lord, but that does not answer my question.'

"Lord? So he appears to be of a higher status that I had initially thought," Erestor realized. "Unless, of course, King Thranduil wished to send more experienced elves to accompany his son to Rivendell and perhaps act as a diplomatic guardian for him. Yes, that must be it."

'Well . . . I . . .' the other elf said embarrassedly, 'I was trying to whistle.'

'Whistle?' Legolas chuckled heartily. 'You do not know how?'

'No,' his companion admitted, flipping his thick blond hair over his shoulder so that Erestor was able to catch a brief glimpse of his face. 'The only type that I know how to do is quite loud and is used only when necessary.'

'Such as a call in battle.'

'Aye. I would demonstrate it now, but I do not wish to wake anyone.'

'I understand . . . so why do you wish to learn how to whistle?'

'It is more artistic, nay? As well, I believe that it would be rather enjoyable to converse with the birds in a language other than my heart.'

'Perhaps, but they would understand the latter more easily, would they not?' Legolas inquired.

'Perhaps,' the other said in turn.

'Still, I find your reasoning to be rather admirable.' The prince turned to leave. 'Good luck, my lord,' he said over his shoulder. 'I am certain that you will accomplish your goal.'

'And until then, I shall keep trying.'

The prince smiled and left.

Erestor smiled as well when he heard more of the blowing sounds, the elf's poor attempt at whistling. His expression became mischievous when he suddenly had an idea . . . He whistled. He watched from behind the curtain as the other elf turned about, wondering where the sound had come from.

"This is the first time that I've seen his face," Erestor realized. "I do not know who that elf is, but he is rather handsome."

The other elf's straight hair was blowing freely in the wind. It screened his face somewhat, but not enough to full conceal his features from the advisor. The blond had piercing blue eyes and a strong, aristocratic nose. His plump, bow-shaped lips were currently pursed in concentration as he searched for the whistler.

'Who is there?' he asked in his melodic voice. 'Prince Legolas, is that you? Are you mocking me?'

Erestor whistled again.

But this time, the other elf's search was almost immediately interrupted by someone calling out to him. The advisor's eyes widened in revelation when he heard the blond's name.

'You are needed in the barracks at once, _Lord Glorfindel_.'


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Sorry for taking so long with updates with all my fics. omg, university life is so hectic. I'll try to update as often as I can, but I can't really say when they next update will be. Sorry. I hope you enjoy this chapter._

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**Chapter 2.0 **

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Following his indirect encounter with Glorfindel from the House of the Golden Flower, Erestor studiously attempted to discover more about the notorious warrior. His efforts, efficient as they often were, failed him this time. He learned naught more than he already knew.

Many an elf said that he was very kind and that he possessed a strong soul. Others called attention to his physical abilities, such as being able to fell a tree with a single stroke of his sword. Upon closer inspection, it was also discovered that Glorfindel was a wise and intellectual individual . . . but Erestor had already known of all that. With the many experiences and memories that the warrior held in his heart, the advisor had merely assumed such from him.

Despite all the apparent facts that the elf had discovered, however, Glorfindel still remained a mystery. The former simply could not understand him. After all, he was principally famed for his tactics and technique in battle, yet just the other night, had Erestor not seen him strain himself over his lacking ability to _whistle_?

Pinching the uppermost part of his nose, the advisor contemplated his thoughts . . . only to be interrupted not a moment later by a knock on his door.

'Come in,' he replied nonchalantly, though still professionally.

'Master Erestor,' Melpomaen said in greeting, bowing respectively.

'Melpomaen,' Erestor returned. 'What brings you to my study?'

'I have completed the charts that you asked for,' the younger elf said, carefully placing a couple of scrolls on top of his master's desk.

'Good,' Erestor said to his charge. 'Take a short break for now. You may return to your duties later.'

'Thank you,' Melpomaen said, bowing for a second time before he left the room.

And the Chief Advisor was left alone with his thoughts once more.

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Chapter 2.1 

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A couple of hours later, while he was reading through and signing his approval on some important documents, the elf was interrupted once more. Believing it to be another one of the junior advisors, Erestor sighed softly.

'Yes? What is it?' he called impatiently. He still had more work to be done and had little time for interruptions.

'Master Erestor?' a voice inquired softly, the speaker having yet to enter the study.

Erestor's ears perked up slightly in uncertainty. The owner of the voice had sounded vaguely familiar to him, and yet he was unable to place a face to it.

'Is this a bad time?' the other asked.

The advisor was strongly tempted to answer "no", for his curiosity was starting to get the better of him. However, he put aside his own emotions in favour of a professional output.

'Aye,' he replied.

'Right,' said the other elf. 'I am sorry for disturbing you.'

'If it is necessary, you may speak with one of my inferiors,' Erestor said, not unkindly, before getting back to work.

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Chapter 2.2 

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It was not until very late that evening that Erestor returned to his chambers once more. After having the servants draw a bath for him, which was a part of his nightly routine, he finally allowed himself to relax.

'It has been such a tolling day,' he muttered to himself. 'As per usual.'

The elf lathered some shampoo into his hair and worked out the knots with his fingers.

'Still,' he said, 'I should not be complaining. I am much more fortunate than others.'

After having washed the lathers from his head, the advisor leaned his head back against the edge of the tub. Without even realizing it, he turned slightly so as to be able to view the world outside of his bathroom window.

But there was no one there to see.

'Ah, what did I anticipate?' he asked himself. 'Lord Glorfindel was there last night, but that is no reason to expect him to return.' Erestor rubbed at his limbs, trying to wash away the tiredness that he felt building within them.

Some time passed before the elf finally pulled himself out of the tub and swathed himself in a bathrobe. Then he returned to his rooms and lay down on his bed.

'I do not know why I am thinking of him,' he admitted to the ceiling of his four-poster bed. 'Perhaps because he appears too good to be true.' Erestor sighed and turned onto his side, tucking an arm beneath his head to get more comfortable. 'Still, it matters not. I shall meet him tomorrow night.'

Then, although he was still well aware of his surroundings, he drifted off to a peaceful sleep. His breathing had slowed and his body had relaxed entirely; his eyes had taken on the glazed expression of elven sleep.

It may have just been his imagination, but he thought that he heard the weak attempts of an elf trying to whistle outside . . .

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Chapter 2.3 

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And just like that, the next day soon passed and evening fell upon the Last Homely House.

And just like that, dinnertime arrived.

The head advisor was more than a little nervous as he readied himself for the evening meal. He self-consciously tied his hair back, released it, braided it, released it, twisted it, released it . . . He wanted to make a good impression on Lord Glorfindel, but how was he to do so when he could not even get his hair to sit right!

'Argh,' he sighed in defeat, throwing down a couple strips of ribbon, his latest attempts to "decorate" his hair. 'This is impossible!' After a moment of contemplation, he ran his comb through his thick, dark locks, releasing the knots from it. 'This will have to do,' he muttered to himself, having decided to leave his hair as it was. 'At least the robes were not a problem.'

Standing up, the elf wandered over to his full-length mirror, where he was able to survey his appearance more easily. His black robes were simple with only a few decorative trimmings along the edges. It was a set of robes that he often wore while in his office, so he knew them to be both comfortable and formal enough for a dinner with the notorious warrior, although seeping a more professional than inviting air.

_Knock. Knock._

'Enter,' Erestor called, turning towards the door.

A servant entered hesitantly, bowing respectively to his superior.

'Master Erestor, Lord Elrond and his family await you,' the she-elf said.

'And Lord Glorfindel?' he asked before he could stop himself.

'Has not yet arrived,' she said, smiling apologetically on his behalf.

Erestor sighed.

'Thank you,' the advisor said. 'Will you please tell them that I shall arrive shortly?'

'Aye, sir.' And she left.

The remaining elf looked at himself in the mirror one more time before finally venturing out of his room.

All the while, he was thinking, "Here we go . . ."

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'Uncle Erestor!' the twins exclaimed, jumping out of their seats to greet him.

'Good evening, younglings,' the elder elf said with a smile. 'My, you are certainly . . . active today.' He glanced at their parents for an explanation.

'They are excited, I suppose,' Celebrian said.

'Why, may I ask?' Erestor asked Elrohir.

'Because this it he first time that we get to eat dinner with Mama _and_ Papa _and_ Uncle Erestor _and_ Uncle Glorfindel!' he exclaimed.

'This is going to be fun!' Elladan added.

Erestor shook his head amusedly.

'I am afraid that I do not think as you do, elflings,' he said honestly. 'Dinner is not supposed to be a playful affair.'

'Erestor is correct, to an extent,' Elrond said. 'I, however, know that it is quite useless to ask you _not _to act as you usually do—that is to say, in your childlish manner—but I _do _ask that you at least _try _to behave. You may entertain us with your antics and such, but do not act too . . . rowdily.'

'Yes, Father,' the said in unison.

'Now, now, dear, that was rather harsh,' Celebrian said.

'Perhaps, but I am only asking this of them for one night,' Elrond said.

'Until the next one,' Elladan muttered.

Elrond, with his keen sense of hearing, heard his son, but did not comment on it.

An awkward silence prevailed . . . until Glorfindel arrived.

'Uncle Glorfindel!' the twins said. Easily forgetting what their father had told them, they ran up to greet the warrior.

Elrond sighed.

'Greetings, young ones,' Glorfindel said, returning their embrace before turning his attention to the elder elves, who had stood up to greet him. 'Good evening, Elrond, Celebrian.'

To Erestor, the fact that Glorfindel referred to the lord and lady by their first names revealed that he was quite familiar with them and felt comfortable in their presence. That was certainly a good thing.

'Hello,' the blond said, suddenly addressing the advisor. 'I do not believe that I have met you.'

'Forgive our manners,' Celebrian said, pressing a hand to her heart in apology. 'We have yet to introduce you. Lord Glorfindel, this is Master Erestor.'

Erestor stood up as well and glanced into Glorfindel's eyes and saw something spark within the sapphire orbs.

'Charmed,' the warrior said with a small smile, looking the other elf up and down.

"There he is," Erestor thought, his heart beating nervously in his chest. "There he is, staring down at me. After all, what am I—an advisor—in comparison to him—an esteemed warrior? . . . He is still staring at me with those deep, beautiful eyes. I can see the cold contempt of his judgment; he thinks that I am such a lowly elf . . . Will I ever be good enough for you, Glorfindel?'

_Ding._

'Ah, it appears that you have arrived just in time, Glorfindel,' Elrond said, sitting down with a flourish. 'Dinner is served.'

Glorfindel broke their eye contact and took a seat across the table from Erestor; he was careful not to catch the other's eye once more.

"He has passed judgment," the brunet thought darkly, sitting down in his high-backed chair. "I am not acceptable."

As per usual, the servants entered to carry out their duties, the only mark of their passing being the food that had been left on the table.

"I do not know what I expected," Erestor admitted to himself as he served himself some rice, "but from all that I have heard about Lord Glorfindel, I had at least expected to be given a fair amount of time to prove myself. After all, it is not possible for him to come to know me within a few moments . . . and yet it appears as if he had already decided.'

'Er . . . Are you quite hungry tonight, Uncle Erestor?' Elrohir asked hesitantly.

'Pardon?'

The elfling glanced pointedly at Erestor's plate, which was loaded with rice. The latter elf had been so distracted with his thoughts that he had not noticed.

'Oh, dear,' he muttered embarrassedly. 'I suppose that I have allowed my mind to wander too far from my body.'

The other elves chuckled.

'What were you thinking about, Erestor?' Celebrian questioned.

'Not work, I hope,' Elrond said with only the slightest hint of a warning in his tone.

'Nay,' Erestor said, but he did not expand upon his answer.

The others allowed it to pass, for which he was very grateful.

'So, Master Erestor,' Glorfindel began, keeping his eyes locked on the bread basket as he retrieved said item, 'why is it that I have yet to see you? I have heard of you, of course, but in all the time that I had been here, I do not believe that I have encountered you in any manner, save hearing your voice on the other side of a door.'

Erestor almost choked.

"That was Glorfindel yesterday!"

'That is because Erestor has taken to locking himself in his study,' Elrond answered for the advisor.

'That is not true, Elrond,' Erestor defended himself.

'He is right, father,' Elladan said.

'Aye, because at other times, he locks himself in his bedchambers instead!' Elrohir piped up.

The group laughed again, yet Erestor maintained his dignity.

'On occasion, I attend the festivities at the Hall of Fire or take walks in the gardens.'

'But you never remain in the Hall for very long and your walks are taken long after everyone else had gone to bed,' Elrond pointed out.

'Now, now, dear, this is not the occasion to chastise Erestor,' Celebrian said kindly.

'I am not chastising him, but perhaps you are right. Let us continue on with our meal.'

Throughout it all, Glorfindel had remained silent and only laughed on the cues that the other elves provided.

Erestor chanced a look upon the blond elf, not knowing what to think of him. By the initial impression he had gotten from him (that is to say, when he heard him trying to whistle outside), he believed that this was a very light-hearted elf. Others agreed, so what did that mean? Was everyone wrong and _this _was the true Glorfindel? Or were they correct in their interpretation of his personality and something was bothering the warrior this evening? Or maybe he—Erestor—was seeing too much into this and analyzing things that did not exist in the first place.

Or maybe it was _because _of him that Glorfindel was acting in this manner.

The theories were numerous . . . The advisor pressed a hand to his forehead, as if to stem the endless flow.

Needless to say, everyone noticed.

'Erestor? Is aught the matter?' Celebrian asked.

'Uncle Erestor?' the twins cooed affectionately.

Erestor forced himself to smile.

'I apologize for worrying you,' he said. 'I simply became lightheaded for a moment there.'

'Well, you have been working too hard as of late,' Elrond said, as if suddenly remembering. 'Mayhap we should call it an early night; you should get some rest.'

'Nay, I am fine,' Erestor insisted. 'There is no need to put an end to everyone's evening on my account.'

'Are you quite certain that you are all right?' the lord asked anxiously.

'I am fine,' the head advisor insisted. 'Really, Elrond, I should think that I could identify my situation better than anyone else can,' he jested.

No one laughed.

'I am fine,' he said once more. 'I was just . . . thinking . . . again.'

'Hmm,' Elrond sighed, unconvinced.

Feeling uncomfortable, Erestor had to try all the harder to convince his friends that he was all right.

'Please, everyone, you have no grounds on which to fret. Do not spoil your evening because of your unnecessary worries for me.'

This time, it was Celebrian's turn to sigh.

'If you insist, my friend, but please do yourself a favour and stop thinking!' she said firmly. 'Just . . . _be _in the moment . . . feel it . . .'

Oh, he felt it all right. The cool demeanor that the golden warrior before him personified . . . and the harsh rejection because of his status. He did not feel worthy to bask in the presence of the notorious Lord Glorfindel.

With more than a little effort, the advisor forced his feelings down and continued to eat.

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**Chapter 2.9**

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_There he is, staring down at me. After all, what am I—an advisor—in comparison to him—an esteemed warrior? . . . He is still staring at me with those deep, beautiful eyes. I can see the cold contempt of his judgment; he thinks that I am such a lowly elf . . . Will I ever be good enough for you, Glorfindel?_

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	3. Chapter 3

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**Chapter 3.0 **

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Erestor could not sleep. This is not the first time that this had happened and it was not, by any means, the last—of that he was certain. The advisor turned onto his side in an attempt to get more comfortable, but it made little difference, for his head was too full of thoughts of blond hair and gleaming eyes . . .

. . . _Glorfindel _. . .

It hurt him to realize that he was not acceptable in the warrior's eyes; it hurt him more than he cared to admit.

But that was that. There was nothing he could do to change it.

Sighing, Erestor slid out of bed. Perhaps a walk outside would help to clear his head and, thus, allow him to finally get some rest. After pulling on a housecoat, he left his room and made his way through the corridors to the nearest exit.

Ah . . . The night air truly felt wonderful. Nighttime was his favourite time of the day, when the pale moon loomed overhead like a sentinel guarded its charges. He slowly wandered over to the pond at the edge of the garden. All was quiet that night, and the only sounds to be heard were the tiny crickets in the grass . . . and approaching footsteps.

Erestor automatically hardened his heart and turned around to face the unwelcome visitor.

'Glorfindel,' he said, willing his eyes not to deceive his joyous feelings. 'What are you doing here at this time of night?'

'I was just taking a midnight stroll,' the warrior said briskly. 'I apologize for having disturbed you. I shall go.' And he turned to leave.

"Wait," Erestor felt like saying, but he not have the nerve to voice such, so he just watched the other elf go, taking his heart with him.

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**Chapter 3.1**

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_There he was, staring down at me. After all, what am I—a mere warrior—in comparison to him—an honoured advisor? . . . He was still staring at me with those deep, beautiful eyes. I could see the cold contempt of his judgment; he thought that I am such a lowly elf . . . Will I ever be good enough for you, Erestor?_

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**Chapter 3.2**

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Glorfindel stood at the edge of the pond, thinking about the sad beauty that surrounded the esteemed advisor when they had encountered. Erestor was so beautiful . . . yet out of his league. The blond picked up a rock and skipped it across the dark water, causing the reflected moonlight to ripple with every jump.

'Aye, well, why would he ever be interested in a lowly elf such as I,' the warrior murmured to himself, tossing another stone. 'He can have practically any elf in Rivendell, save for Lord Elrond himself.' He paused. 'Actually, even Lord Elrond is probably obtainable for such an elf . . . Erestor must have been blessed by the gods themselves.'

"Such an honourable elf, one that anyone – be they man, woman, or elf – would be proud to call their lover . . . so why would he ever choose me?"

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**Chapter 3.3**

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"Why would he ever choose me?" Erestor wondered, as he made his way back to his bedchambers. "Why would he ever want to? I was wrong before; he is not too good to be true. But he _is _too good to be true for me . . ."

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**Chapter 3.4**

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'I am sorry, what did you say?' Glorfindel asked, for _surely _he had misheard the Elven lord.

'I am sending you and Erestor to Mirkwood,' Elrond said.

'And may I inquire as to why, my Lord,' Erestor said with a raised brow.

'The conference has been cancelled. It is important that Rivendell sends elves to Mirkwood immediately to help our kin.'

'If I may ask, Elrond, what for?' the blond elf questioned.

A darkened look appeared on the elf lord's face.

'Orcs,' he responded with a bitter look on his face, 'have attacked Mirkwood. There have also been rumors of men who want to join forces with the orcs because one of their women went missing near the Western borders and they believe Mirkwood is to blame.'

'I see,' Glorfindel said thoughtfully. 'We shall prepare to leave as soon as possible. I shall inform my battalion to prepare as well.'

Elrond nodded.

'Take whatever supplies you will need. The Mirkwood elves know of these . . . circumstances as well and are preparing to leave within a few hours. Follow them as soon as you are able to. Hopefully, it will not be too late.'

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**Chapter 3.5**

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'Let us stop to rest here for the night,' Glorfindel suggested, leading his mare to the riverside to drink.

Erestor and the other elves followed.

The Rivendell elves had headed for Mirkwood less than an hour after the Mirkwood elves, yet their paths had not crossed. Glorfindel hoped that the latter took breaks on their way home and did not simply trade their steeds for fresh ones and continue one. While the horses would be fresh and ready to run, the elves themselves would tire themselves out and not be prepared to fight, if the battle was still raging on by the time they arrived. It was important that they get there in time, but only if they could be helpful in the battle.

Glorfindel sighed as he slid off his horse. It had been a long and not altogether pleasant ride, knowing what awaited them at the end of their journey. Wanting to avoid the thought of the coming battle, Glorfindel busied himself by settling the elves and helping to set up the campsite. A short while later, he slipped away from the group to retrieve some firewood . . . and he was surprised to see that someone else had too.

'Erestor, what are you doing here?'

'Getting firewood,' the advisor replied coolly as he bent over to retrieve some dead branches. He turned to glance at the other elf and a dark lock of hair fell seductively over his eye. 'And you?'

'Uh . . .' Glorfindel paused, momentarily breathless. 'Gathering some firewood as well,' he said sheepily.

'Oh, I did not know that you had come to do the same. I shall leave you to it then.' Erestor turned to return to the camp with his meager bundle of wood.

'Wait,' Glorfindel said.

'Aye?'

'Stay with me . . . for a while . . . to talk,' the warrior said nervously. 'I feel as if we have not had the proper opportunity to speak and get to know each other.'

'Oh?' Erestor said, appearing taken back. 'Well, what would you like to know?'

Glorfindel leaned against a tree, trying to appear casual.

'Well . . . what do you enjoy doing in your spare time?'

'I read by the Bruinen River,' Erestor responded. 'Sometimes, the twins accompany me and I tell them stories, although – I must admit – I am not a very good storyteller. They are pleasant company, nay? And they appear to enjoy your company as well.'

'I certainly enjoy theirs. Time passes quickly when I with them. Elladan and Elrohir are mischievous elflings at the moment, but I anticipate that they will grow up to be strong and wise . . . with our guidance, of course,' Glorfindel said, half-teasingly.

'Aye, Elrond mentioned that you would be the one teaching them how to combat.'

'And I look forward to teaching them. Although, at the moment, one of my greatest fears is giving them arms.'

Erestor chuckled.

'Your fears do not appear to be ungrounded. I am to teach them academics and politics when they are old enough; it is a necessity since they are to be the future lords of Rivendell. However, knowledge is power, and for two elflings as mischievous as them . . .' He trailed off with a slight smile on his face, but then his features hardened once more. 'I apologize. It is improper to speak of the young lords this way.'

'Come now, Erestor,' Glorfindel said with a smile. 'We were merely teasing. Do not take it so seriously.'

'I have to be serious, Lord Glorfindel. It is my job.'

'But not your life.'

Erestor did not say anything for a moment, then, 'We are on a grave mission to aid our kin in battle. I do not think that now is the time to jest.'

And with that said, he left, leaving a rather confused Glorfindel in his wake.

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**Chapter 3.6**

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"Why does he do that?" Erestor wondered. "Why does Lord Glorfindel take pity on me and engage me in conversation? He saw that I was alone and thought that it was his obligation to speak to me. He likely noticed that I am an outsider here, amongst all these warrior elves. Although I have not forgotten how to weird a sword, I have not done so in many a year, so I am certainly not of the same brand as they are."

'Is that all the wood you brought?' another elf asked him, staring disappointedly at the few branches in the advisor's arms.

'. . . Aye,' Erestor replied after a brief pause. 'Lord Glorfindel went to retrieve firewood as well,' he explained lamely, which was uncharacteristic of him, especially since he was supposed to be an advisor. 'I expect that he shall return soon.'

The other elf nodded and walked away to help one of his comrades prepare their meal.

"And we probably pity me even more upon his return," Erestor thought sullenly, noticing that he was standing alone at the fringe of the group, not conversing and laughing with the others.

'I am going to bathe,' he said to no one in particular. Then he made his way towards the river nearby.

"As important as our mission to Mirkwood is, I cannot wait to return home," he thought as he slipped his tunic off. "I am not used to constantly being around warriors such as they. I usually travel with groups of dignitaries and the only warriors with us would be our guards – certainly not as many combat elves as there are now."

He heard laughter in the distance and faintly smelled some spices in the wind.

'Someone must be making broth,' he said to himself. Erestor's heart mourned to join in with the other elves, but – of course – he decided against it. After all, it was his first lifestyle that they were accustomed to, that of the Chief Advisor. So, instead, he slipped off his leggings and his gear, exposing his pale body to the wind. 'I suppose it is a good thing that I enjoy my own company,' he muttered, stepping into the cool water.

'Do you mind if I join you?' someone asked suddenly.

Erestor almost jumped, but composed himself just in time; he turned around to greet the unexpected visitor.

'Lord Glorfindel,' he said, trying to hide his surprise. 'I did not hear you approaching.'

"Deja-vu," he thought.

'Indeed,' the blond replied. 'I expect you were . . . distracted by your own musings? I understand by now that you have the tendency to do that.'

'Aye,' Erestor said, 'it is—'

'Your job,' Glorfindel finished for him, sighing. 'Aye, I know.' He quickly – yet gracefully – stripped himself of his clothes and waded into the water beside Erestor.

'What are you doing?' the advisor asked before he could stop himself, feeling rather nervous since Glorfindel was standing naked next to him. While he had seen many elves nude before (after all, Erestor had come of age many centuries ago), the sight of Glorfindel's smooth, slightly muscled body was certainly a pleasant sight to behold.

'Bathing,' the other responded. 'Since you did not reply to my initial question, I assumed it was a, "No, I do not mind. Please join me".' He winked.

"He is teasing again," Erestor realized, feeling a surge of anger.

'Why do you not join in the festivities?' Glorfindel asked.

'They are not to my liking,' the brunet replied, a bit more harshly than he had intended.

'Indeed? You will not even give your comrades a chance?'

'They are your comrades, Glorfindel, not mine,' Erestor reminded him. 'And, while they are . . . pleasant company, I merely do not wish to join them.' He turned to the warrior with a raised brow. 'Why are you not with them?'

'I wished to bathe,' Glorfindel said, as if that was obvious. 'I expect that once the battle is upon us, there will be few opportunities for such luxuries.'

'Indeed,' the advisor said this time.

The other elf moved closer to Erestor.

'I was not only speaking of bathing, Erestor.'

The brunet swiftly moved away.

'Lord Glorfindel, I do not think this is appropriate,' Erestor said hotly. 'We are colleagues out on a mission to help our kin – nothing more.'

Something appeared to crack in Glorfindel's features, but the advisor was certain that he had imagined it because the warrior appeared to be his normal self mere moments later.

'You misinterpret my meaning,' he said stiffly. 'I merely wish to be your friend.'

'I have few friends,' Erestor said slowly. 'And I . . . I believe that it is best kept that way.' He moved further away from Glorfindel. 'I am sorry,' he said, turning away.

There was a rather awkward silence, then—

'Why will you not give me a chance, Erestor?' Glorfindel asked softly. 'Why do you not give any of the other elves a chance either? We have a lot to offer you in terms in friendship and I am certain that you do as well.'

'Perhaps, but I do not want your pity,' the advisor replied, composed as ever.

'Pity?' Glorfindel inquired in disgust. 'Is _that _what you think we are doing – pitying you?' He flung his arms up emotionally, splashing water into the air. 'Well, we are not! _I _am not! What must I do to gain your trust?'

'Why is it so important to you?' Erestor asked. 'You have gained the trust and respect of many beings, elves and humans alike. Is that not enough? Please leave me be. I would like to keep our relationship strictly professional.'

Glorfindel stared at him, appearing shocked.

'As you wish,' he said coldly. 'I shall take me leave then, Master Erestor.'

Erestor watched with a heavy heart as the other elf stepped out of the river, collected his clothes, and walked away.

"I want to get to know him better," Erestor thought, "but what is the point if he is so much better than I? Anyone would choose him over me."

A wave of emotion swept over him when he heard, in the distance, the weak attempts of an elf trying to whistle . . .

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**Chapter 3.7**

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Good and evil…

Sun and moon…

Water and fire…

Everything was composed of a duality, opposites, each concept of dark countered by a stream of light.

Erestor was the personification of "duality, for he led two different lives—one around his closest friends, and the other around everyone else. To many, he was naught more than the Chief Advisor of Lord Elrond, an experienced, rather intimidating intellectual of high status in the hierarchy of Rivendell. But to some, he was a comfortable presence—a strong, supportive friend and ally.

It was the second lifestyle that he chose to show Glorfindel. The impersonal style he had that would discourage most elves and perhaps even drive them away.

"Did I do the right thing?" he wondered.

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**Chapter 3.8**

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"He does not want me," Glorfindel thought. "He does not want to get to know me. He does not want anything to do with me!"

He was unable to explain why Erestor seemed so important to him, but he definitely had his theories. He had not felt this way about anyone, not since . . . Ecthelion.

"But that does not make any sense! I do not even know him and he has treated me with naught but 'professionalism' since I first met him!"

"But you _have_ seen the other side of him," a voice said inside of him. "You saw how he acted when he was with Elrond's family. He softened and there was an affectionate look in his eye whenever he addressed them. He loves them as much as he would his own family."

"But other than them, he does not want to get close to anyone else," Glorfindel realized.

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**Chapter 3.9**

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Unknowingly, two elves alone sat in the dark of the night, wondering the same thing . . .

_Will I ever be good enough for you?_

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	4. Chapter 4

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**Chapter 4.0**

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The next morning, the Rivendell elves awakened at dawn and, after a quick breakfast of lembas bread and water, hastened towards Mirkwood to aid their kin in battle.

As they were riding along, Glorfindel was not surprised to see that Erestor was riding at the back company, with the same withdrawn, impersonal expression on his face that he had amongst strangers.

"We do not have to be strangers, Erestor," Glorfindel thought, returning his attention to the forest path before him. "_I _do not have to be a stranger." He led the elves towards the East end of Mirkwood. From the information he learned from Elrond, he had the impression that the battle between elves and the orcs and men would take place along the Western border, since that was where the human woman had disappeared.

All too soon, they were riding on the pathway that led into Mirkwood forest. Many of the elves felt the usual adrenaline rush of the oncoming battle. Usually, Glorfindel would be among them, but this time, he had a new feeling – worry. He glanced once more at Erestor, noticing that the advisor was riding with his head up and staring straight into the distance, but he did not really seem to "see" what he was looking at. Was he, too, worried about the oncoming battle?

'Elbereth, protect him,' Glorfindel whispered.

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**Chapter 4.1**

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As they neared the heart of Mirkwood, Erestor noticed that their pace had slowed considerably. The reason was, of course, to show the Mirkwood elves that they did not intend any hostility towards them. This was especially important since their Mirkwood kin were likely watching their every move, waiting for the right moment to reveal themselves, which the advisor expected to be soon; he had felt the watchful gazes of the guards since they had entered the wood and was bracing himself for their sudden appearance.

In front of him, the other Rivendell elves were gazing around intently, for the dual purpose of looking out for the Mirkwood elves as well as any enemies that may be lurking nearby. This atmosphere was certainly not the same as Rivendell's. It was more hostile and less protected, so it would be easier for enemies to sneak up on them from behind.

It was very quiet . . . too quiet, as if all the birds and the beasts had left the forest, aware of the battle within.

Suddenly, Erestor heard a whistling sound in the distance; it was not the welcoming sound of birds or even the whistled signals from Mirkwood elves. No, this was the distinct sound of . . . a flying arrow!

Hardening his resolve, the advisor whipped out his sword with lightning speed and turned its blade towards the sound.

The arrow, which would have soared harmlessly in front of him, was cut cleanly in half – lengthwise – a very impressive move for one who had not wielded a sword for so long.

Erestor breathed a sigh of relief. He was somewhat anxious that his skills had slackened over time; fortunately, he was wrong.

A moment later, a blond elf jumped down from the tree atop of Erestor, where he had been watching the party from the obscurity of the leaves.

'What is the meaning of this?' Erestor demanded, indicating the now-useless arrow on the ground.

The other elf bowed.

'I apologize. I was given orders to . . . _test _the skills of any elves who . . . who seemed unfit to join the battle,' he said rather uncomfortably.

'Is that so?'

'I had not intended to show you any disrespect, my lord. I merely noticed that you do not have the same build as the other elves and are not wearing the warrior insignia of Rivendell.'

Erestor heard a couple of the Rivendell elves snickering.

'I apologize once more for singling you out,' the blond finished with another bow.

'Apology accepted,' Erestor said with a slight bow in return. 'I understand your concern, as I am an advisor and not a warrior.'

'Nevertheless, your skills are impressive and will be of much help.' Now he turned to the other elves. 'Who is the leader among you?'

Glorfindel guided his mare forward.

'I am,' he said.

'The battle is at the Western border,' the Mirkwood elf explained. 'Bring your party to the beech tree about one league north of here, then turn westward and you will hear the cries of battle.'

Glorfindel nodded in response and the elf disappeared into the trees once more.

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**Chapter 4.3**

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'Master Erestor,' Glorfindel called. 'Ride with me. The rest of you follow – it is time.'

Erestor guided his horse alongside Glorfindel's. Then, as a group, the elves galloped north to the beech tree and, eventually, to the battle.

'That was impressive,' Glorfindel said loudly to the advisor, trying to speak over the pounding of the horses' hooves and the wind whistling in their ears.

'I was trained well,' the other elf explained.

'I see.'

'Why do you seem so surprised? Did you think that advising is all that I am able to do?'

'Nay, I just did not consider which fields your other skills lay in.'

Erestor shifted uncomfortably.

'What do you mean by that?' he asked, somewhat annoyed.

'I meant no disrespect. I just—'

'Want to be my friend,' Erestor finished for him.

'Yes,' Glorfindel agreed. 'And nothing more. I want to be more than your leader, but not your brother . . .' He trailed off, unable to finish with "or your lover", as he had originally intended. It was already bad enough that he was lying to Erestor about only wanting to be his friend, but to lie to him further by saying he does _not _want to be the elf's lover would just be . . . cold.

Since his voice had suddenly wavered, Erestor was looking at him, as if expecting him to say something more.

Instead, Glorfindel cleared his throat to end the awkward silence.

'Be careful out there today, Erestor,' he said, staring straight ahead. 'I have seen your skill with a blade, but I cannot help but be . . . anxious . . . for you.'

Erestor nodded slightly.

'Thank you.'

Having nothing further to say to the brunet, Glorfindel resumed his position of "leader" and said, 'That is all. You may return to your position at the end of the line, if you so wish.'

There was a pause, then, 'I would like to stay here.'

The blond turned to his companion, shocked.

'I am sorry, what did you say?'

'I would like to stay here,' Erestor repeated firmly, 'at the head of the company. After all, I am as much a representative of Lord Elrond – and of Rivendell – as you are.'

Glorfindel heard some murmurings from the other warriors and he knew that they were talking about Erestor, perhaps shocked at how he had spoken to their captain or else shocked at his behaviour in general.

'As you wish,' Glorfindel said, feeling something warm develop inside his chest.

And so they continued to ride in silence.

Then Erestor suddenly asked, 'What were you going to say?'

'Pardon?'

'Before,' the advisor explained. 'You were saying that you want to be more than my leader, but not my brother . . . or what?'

Glorfindel did not know what to say. He had not really expected Erestor to notice that, much less ask him about it so soon.

"That was an oversight on my part," he realized. "After all, he _is _an advisor. It is his job to hear things that most people may not notice."

'I . . . I do not think that it would be appropriate to discuss that right now, Erestor,' he said uncomfortably. 'Mayhap later?'

Erestor nodded.

'I understand. A battle is approaching and we do not have time to dally on such personal affairs . . . I have nothing more to say. I believe . . . that I shall return to the end of the line and remain out of the way of you warriors.' With that said, he slowed down and resumed his position at the tail of the party, as far away from Glorfindel as he could be (considering the circumstances).

The warmth in blond's chest suddenly disappeared.

"What am I going to do?" he wondered. "If I tell him the truth . . . No, I cannot tell him the truth. I do not want him to vanish from my life for good."

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**Chapter 4.5**

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The battle was in full force when they arrived. Some of the Mirkwood elves had fallen; their clothes were bloody and their eyes stared straight into the raging battle, but were unable to see it. Even more orcs and men had fallen; their state of being similar to that of the elves, although their eyes were mostly closed.

'The Rivendell elves are here!' Legolas cried out in relief, as he stabbed his knife through a squirming orc.

'Drive them back!' another Mirkwood elf shouted to the party. 'Help us drive them back!'

With a grim nod, Glorfindel turned to his warriors and said, 'You heard him.'

And they charged.

Only one elf hesitated before joining the fight – Erestor had hung back, taking in the battle scene and mentally preparing himself for the task at hand, perhaps even forming a plan or two. His gazed locked with the blond's for a moment and he appeared as if he wanted to say something . . . but instead, he nodded curtly and charged into battle.

'Nay!' Glorfindel wanted to scream, but he did not. He knew that Erestor had to join the battle, as did he; he had no right to stop him. He pulled his sword from its sheath and galloped forwards to help protect his kin . . . and the one he loved.

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**Chapter 4.6**

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Good and evil…

Sun and moon…

Water and fire…

Everything was composed of a duality, opposites, each concept of dark countered by a stream of light.

Erestor – the dark-hair advisor from Rivendell, an elf who was held in high-respect by all who met him . . . Glorfindel – the golden-haired warrior from Gondolin, a born leader and friend of many . . .

They were so different . . . If Erestor was the darkness, the shadows within, then Glorfindel was the light, the centre of all.

Glorfindel was the light . . . the only light for Erestor . . .

Glorfindel was the one . . . the _only_ one he could love . . .

Glorfindel . . .

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**Chapter 4.7**

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'Erestor!' Glorfindel called out in despair. He had been keeping an eye on Erestor from a distance (for he did not want to appear as if he was intruding) and what he saw made his heart stop beating in his chest. 'Look out! Behind you!'

At the cry, Erestor whipped around and swung his sword in a long arc, slicing off the orc's arm.

The orc howled in pain and his useless arm fell to the ground, dropping the knife that it had intended to use to kill Erestor. It growled with fury and flung its body against the elf, catching him by surprise. The pair fell to the ground with a loud _thump_, which was nevertheless barely audible over the din.

'Get off!' Erestor yelled, shoving the orc to the side. He pulled out a small hunting knife from his boot and drove it into the creature's skull, stilling its movements. Suddenly, a hot pain formed in his shoulder – it felt as if it was on fire! The advisor cried out and weakly collapsed forward, overcome with pain.

'Nay!' Glorfindel screamed. He fought his way over to the fallen elf and – despite the fact that he was weary with fatigue and pain – many enemies fell, defeated by the golden elf who suddenly had the strength of ten men. 'Erestor!' He encountered the man who had thrown the spear and savagely swung his sword to and fro, trying to get past his defenses. It did not take the elf long; with all his strength, he thrust his sword into the stranger's chest – right into his heart.

The man's eyes glazed over and he fell backwards in a heap; there was no question that he was dead.

Glorfindel surveyed the dark blood on his sword, feeling slightly satisfied with his revenge.

'It is no less that you deserve,' he snarled with a coldness that was uncharacteristic of him. As if he just remembered why he had come all this way, the blond ran towards Erestor, who was still lying face-forward on the ground. 'Erestor! Erestor!'

The advisor did not stir.

Shouting in frustration, Glorfindel pulled the spear from his companion's shoulder and surveyed the tip – it was black.

'Poison,' he muttered.

After tossing the weapon to the side, he hastily put pressure on the other elf's shoulder, where blood was streaming heavily from the wound.

"This will not do," he realized immediately. "He needs to be brought to the Healers." The warrior swung Erestor unceremoniously over his shoulder and started to run.

'Cover me!' he yelled to a pair of his subordinates.

They nodded in response and ran alongside him as he made his way to the safety of the palace, to the Hospital Wing.

Glorfindel could faintly hear the brunet breathing. His breaths were very shallow and irregular, but still, he was alive.

"Hold on, Erestor," he thought anxiously. "Hold on . . ."

Around him, the battle continued on as if nothing had happened, but in Glorfindel's heart, something _had _happened – something drastic that could change his life forever. Although he had now known Erestor for long, he felt a connection with the elf that he had not felt in a long time. If he were to lose him now . . . well, he just did not want to think about that. It would hurt too much.

"Erestor . . . Hold on . . ."

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**Chapter 4.8**

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Good and evil…

Sun and moon…

Water and fire…

Everything was composed of a duality, opposites, each concept of dark countered by a stream of light.

Erestor – the dark-hair advisor from Rivendell, an elf who was held in high-respect by all who met him . . . Glorfindel – the golden-haired warrior from Gondolin, a born leader and friend of many . . .

They were so different . . . If Glorfindel was the light, the centre of all, then Erestor was the darkness, the shadows within.

Erestor was the darkness . . . the only one who could keep Glorfindel grounded to Middle Earth . . .

Erestor was the one . . . the only one he could love . . .

Erestor . . .

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**Chapter 4.9**

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Although he was almost unconscious, the gears in Erestor's mind continued to whirr, such that he was vaguely aware of his surroundings . . . but he was still unable to move.

"It hurts," he thought, "It hurts so much . . . Is this what it feels like – dying? Is this what it feels like, to die without having told the one I love the truth? Glorfindel . . . I love you . . . I am sorry that I never had the courage to tell you that in life . . . Goodbye . . ."

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	5. Chapter 5

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**Chapter 5.0**

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Glorfindel stayed by Erestor's side the entire time. Even when Erestor was brought to the Healers and they assured him that the brunet would live, he refused to leave. It had been close – too close. What would Glorfindel do if Erestor was gone from his life for good? How could he continue living, knowing that the only elf he could ever love was gone forever?

"I am going to tell him," Glorfindel decided. "I am going to tell him everything – about how much he means to me and that I want to be more than just friends."

The warrior had been sitting there for hours, watching over Erestor as the Healers treated his wound. After the Healers left, he continued to sit there, watching, ever watching for any sign of change . . . but Erestor remained motionless, the only sign of life being the almost imperceptible rise and fall of his chest. A light sheen of sweat was beginning to form on his brow, a most unexpected and worrisome characteristic of an elf.

Glorfindel's conscience nagged him continuously, assuring him that Erestor would be fine and he was needed in battle, but Glorfindel just ignored it. He knew that he should be out there, fighting, directing his troops . . . killing . . . Yes, he would be out there killing others. He had no remorse about killing the orcs, knowing that they were pure evil and the natural enemy of the elves. But these men . . . these simple village men . . . they were not soldiers. They did not belong out there, fighting against Mirkwood. They were not enemies.

"They want just want one of their own returned to them," Glorfindel remembered. "That woman is the one they want, the one they are missing. If she is somehow found and returned to them, then . . . the conflict will still not end," the elf realized with a sigh. "They will want revenge."

He looked down at his poor Erestor, seemingly sleeping without a care in the world . . . but Glorfindel knew otherwise, having been pierced by an orc's poisoned sword in the past. The warrior knew that Erestor's dreams were plagued with nightmares, making him suffer, making him wish he would die. The kinds of nightmares Glorfindel had . . . Ecthelion . . . No; he did not want to recall them. They had been too terrible, too devastating, so heartbreaking to see . . .

'Erestor,' Glorfindel murmured, gently dabbing at the other elf's face and neck with a damp cloth that was left behind by the healers. 'Please come back. I am waiting for you – I will always be waiting for you. I want no other. Please, come back to me. Do not let go . . .'

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**Chapter 5.1**

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"Glorfindel? Is that you?" Erestor tried to say, but he couldn't respond. His entire body felt like it was on fire. Screams of pain echoed in his head, screams that sounded vaguely familiar . . .

Through it all, however, he thought that he could hear Glorfindel's golden voice calling to him. "Glorfindel! Help me! Please, just end all of this. I cannot bear it. The only thing I regret is not being able to love you the way I wanted to – oh, how I wanted to."

It was taking all of the advisor's willpower to try to dull the pain in his mind.

"I do not know if I could ever have been good enough for you, but I would have tried with all my heart . . . Now we shall never know, Glorfindel."

But just as Erestor was about to give in to his cruel fate, there was a light, a beacon of hope in his darkness.

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**Chapter 5.2**

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Good and evil…

Sun and moon…

Water and fire…

Everything was composed of a duality, opposites, each concept of dark countered by a stream of light.

Erestor – the dark-hair advisor from Rivendell, an elf who was held in high-respect by all who met him . . . Glorfindel – the golden-haired warrior from Gondolin, a born leader and friend of many . . .

They were so different . . . If Erestor was the darkness, the shadows within, then Glorfindel was the light, the centre of all.

Glorfindel was the light . . . the only light for Erestor . . .

Glorfindel was the one . . . the only one he could love . . .

Glorfindel . . .

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**Chapter 5.3**

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_Will I ever be good enough for you?_

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**Chapter 5.4 **

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Glorfindel had to go. As much as he loathed leaving Erestor alone in his suffering, the golden warrior was needed elsewhere. No one else should have to suffer his fate, this horrific mental state caused by orc poison. Then again, not many elves did, for most of them died shortly after being cut . . . either because of their own physical weakness after the long battle or because of the merciful hand of a fellow elf who wanted to end their suffering.

'I will return, my love,' Glorfindel whispered. Then he did something he would not have dared to do to Erestor while he was awake, lest he affront him in some manner – he kissed him.

All at once, it felt as if the blond's fears and hopes were merged . . . light and shadows . . . yin and yang . . . together at last. Although Erestor's lips were unresponsive beneath his, Glorfindel put all of his heart into that kiss, gently brushing over the soft lips and stroking the advisor's hair tenderly from his damp face.

'Lord Glorfindel,' a voice suddenly said, interrupting the delicate moment.

Glorfindel stopped kissing Erestor, but he lingered for a minute in the other elf's closeness before turning to face the unexpected newcomer.

'Prince Legolas,' the warrior greeted. 'To what do I owe this pleasure?'

Legolas cleared his throat, appearing somewhat uncomfortable with what he had just seen . . . or was it something else?

'I apologize for the intrusion, but I . . . we . . . May I speak to you for a moment?' the prince finally asked.

'Of course, but let us speak on our way back to the battle, nay?'

'Aye, well, there is something that I have to show you as well, actually.'

Glorfindel's curiosity peaked, but first and foremost, he was a warrior and a leader.

'Then perhaps it is best that we speak another time, prince,' he said, not unkindly. 'I do not wish to offend you in any way, but—'

'This matter concerns the battle,' Legolas interrupted hastily, now ignoring the formalities. 'Come, my lord. Follow me, and you shall see what I mean.'

Seeing the fierce expression on the other elf's face, Glorfindel agreed, and followed Legolas through the maze of corridors and up to the prince's bedroom.

Hesitating for only a moment, Legolas opened the door . . . and Glorfindel was faced with an entirely unexpected surprise.

'A woman!' he exclaimed. '_The_woman! She is the one that they are looking for, is she not?' he demanded of Legolas.

'Aye,' Legolas admitted with a blush.

Glorfindel looked at the woman again. She was nothing spectacular, at least not compared to the elves; but she was certainly beautiful in her own way. Piercing grey eyes stared at the warrior from a tanned, somewhat round face. Her raven hair streamed unbound and unadorned down to the middle of her back. The sapphire dress she wore, no doubt a gift from the Mirkwood prince, revealed just the right amount of skin and clung to her in all the right places, accentuating her curvy body.

'I apologize for my rudeness,' he said to the villager, remembering his manners. 'I am Glorfindel.'

'Lasswen,' she replied.

'You have a beautiful name, Leaf Maiden,' Glorfindel said, translating the name into the Common Tongue.

She nodded silently, as if trying to interpret what kind of an elf he was.

'Glorfindel,' Legolas said, returning the warrior's attention to him. 'You are right, of course, in assuming it is my doing that she here . . . and . . . my fault, perhaps, that there is now a battle raging on outside.' The prince laid a hand on his strong shoulder. 'Nevertheless, I would repeat my actions again and again if it would help her.'

'Help her?' Glorfindel questioned.

'Her life in the village was terrible,' Legolas said, allowing his arm to fall to his side once more. Then he looked at Lasswen, silently asking her permission to continue.

Again, she nodded.

'She lived alone with her stepfather on the outskirts of the village,' he explained. 'Her father abandoned the family before she was even born. Her mother remarried somewhat hastily, as if just to make sure that Lasswen would have a father, but her decision was rather unwise.'

'Where is your mother now?' Glorfindel asked her.

'She has passed, my lord,' Lasswen replied. 'She died giving birth to me.'

'And . . . her life has been hard since,' Legolas said. 'As a baby and young child, she was raised and protected by her elder brother. Their stepfather treated them like slaves, but whenever he went into a rage, it was her brother who would take all the beatings.'

'He is dead now,' Lasswen spoke up once more. 'It is probably better that way anyway.'

Legolas nodded in agreement.

'Please, continue,' Glorfindel said gently.

'As soon as Lasswen reached puberty,' Legolas started again, 'her stepfather started to . . . look at her with a stranger's eyes . . . different from the way he used to see her . . . Whenever she refused his advances, she was beaten. Whenever she gave in . . . well . . .'

Glorfindel held up his hand to stop the prince from going further.

'I understand what you mean,' he said.

'She cannot go back,' Legolas finished. 'If she did . . . the unspeakable things that her father might do to her . . .'

'Aye,' Glorfindel said. 'She must not return.' He looked more closely at the pair, trying to identify the kind of relationship that existed between them. 'I want to ask you something,' he said, looking directly at the prince. 'And please understand that my rudeness is a result of the pressing time we have.'

'Please,' Legolas said, 'and I shall answer as honestly as I can.'

'Do you love her?' Glorfindel asked. Then, turning to Lasswen, he asked, 'Do you love him?'

'Aye,' they both replied without hesitation.

'I see.'

'But our relationship is not what you think it is, my lord,' Lasswen said. 'I love Legolas as I would my brother.'

'And I love Lasswen as a sister,' Legolas said in agreement.

'I see,' Glorfindel said again, but with a different tone of voice this time. 'Does anyone else know that you are here, Lasswen?'

'Aye, my lord,' she replied, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

'My warriors do,' Legolas said.

'But the Rivendell elves are kept in the dark?' Glorfindel asked accusingly, but it was not really question.

'Aye,' Legolas said, ashamed. 'But even my own father does not know about this!'

'That is most unexpected,' Glorfindel said, for Prince Legolas and King Thranduil had always been close.

'It is a . . . delicate matter,' the prince said.

'They think you kidnapped her, prince,' Glorfindel pointed out. 'You must tell the villagers the truth – that she left of her own accord.'

'Of course, but then they will demand to see her and hear it from her own lips and I am afraid that if her stepfather sees her, he will kill her on sight.'

'Then we must proceed with this very carefully and in a controlled setting,' Glorfindel said.

'Aye,' Legolas said.

A brief silence passed between them, then, 'Are you in love, Lord Glorfindel?' the Mirkwood elf asked suddenly.

'I am,' Glorfindel responded quietly. 'With one I should never have fallen in love with.'

'Why do you say that?' Lasswen questioned.

'I do not deserve him.'

'That is not true,' Lasswen said. 'I have known you for only a short while, but from your willingness to help us, I can see that you have a kind heart.'

'And every kind heart deserves someone to love,' Legolas said,' and someone to love them back. I think that Master Erestor is a wise choice.'

'Ah, but I did not choose him, prince. My heart did.'

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**Chapter 5.6**

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Good and evil…

Sun and moon…

Water and fire…

Everything was composed of a duality, opposites, each concept of dark countered by a stream of light.

Erestor – the dark-hair advisor from Rivendell, an elf who was held in high-respect by all who met him . . . Glorfindel – the golden-haired warrior from Gondolin, a born leader and friend of many . . .

They were so different . . . If Glorfindel was the light, the centre of all, then Erestor was the darkness, the shadows within.

Erestor was the darkness . . . the only one who could keep Glorfindel grounded to Middle Earth . . .

Erestor was the one . . . the only one he could love . . .

Erestor . . .

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**Chapter 5.7**

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_Will I ever be good enough for you, Erestor?_

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**Chapter 5.8**

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_I love you, Erestor_

_I love you with all my heart, from the moment I first laid eyes on you . . . perhaps even before._

_I had heard of you through your reputation._

_I had known you through Elrond's stories._

_I had started to love you, without realizing it, through your acts of kindness._

_But could you ever love me back?_

_Could you ever love me, a mere warrior?_

_Would you even give me the chance to love you?_

_After all, anyone would choose you over me . . ._

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**Chapter 5.9**

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After finalizing the plans, Glorfindel and Legolas began to make their way back to the battle grounds, leaving Lasswen alone in the safety of the prince's bedroom.

Her fate was in balance. Her life was no longer her own. Everything was dependent on those two golden elves – warriors, brothers, friends . . .

Not knowing what else she could do, she did something that she had not done in many a year.

She kneeled down, and prayed.

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	6. Chapter 6

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**Chapter 6.0**

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Glorfindel and Legolas finally made it to the battle grounds, after weaving their way through hoards of servants who were helping prepare food and supplies for the warriors. An Elven horn sounded in the din, blown by a sentinel whom they had passed on the way to the Western border. The Mirkwood and Rivendell elves alike retreated and, noticing the two golden elves approach, went towards them for further instructions.

'Wait,' Legolas said simply, so they did.

A moment later, a white flag was waved by one of Legolas' warriors, a symbol for truce and negotiation.

'No!' the orc leader was yelling to the men, baring his teeth. 'It is a trap!'

'I trust the elves to hold their honour,' one man said, and many of the others nodded in agreement.

The orcs growled in response, but acquiesced.

With their Elven eyes, Glorfindel and Legolas noticed that the other party was honouring their white flag and they carefully approached.

'Who is the stepfather of the woman you seek?' Legolas said majestically, making a rare display of his princedom.

'I am.' A disheveled, fierce-looking man limped towards them, grimacing from the pain in his wounded knee. 'What do you want?' he demanded rudely.

'To speak with you,' the prince said with eyes as cold as ice.

'And with the leader of your clan,' Glorfindel called out, and another man stepped forward.

'What is this about?' the chief asked, not unkindly.

'We wish to discuss Lasswen's well-being.'

'Is she safe?'

'Safer than she ever was with him,' Legolas said with disgust, nodding towards the gruff man beside him.

'And what of us?' the leader of the orcs asked in his gravelly voice.

'We have no business with you,' the warrior said dismissively. 'And you have no business with these men.'

'Although you must still honour the truce,' the chief warned.

The orc made a biting motion at him, but said nothing further.

'Come,' Legolas said, indicating that the two men should follow him. 'We have much to discuss.'

'Where are we going?' Lasswen's stepfather asked. 'How do we know that you're not kidnapping us? We will not dare enter your city.'

'We would never think of inviting you,' Legolas said; behind his back, Glorfindel shot an apologetic look at the clan chief.

'Be careful what you say, elf, lest your father finds himself childless ere I leave this place.'

'Lasswen will find herself an orphan before that happens,' Legolas replied through gritted teeth, his voice shaking with impatience.

Glorfindel, too, was upset and placed a threatening hand on the hilt of his sword.

The small group walked until they were just out of sight of the battlers, but still within auditory range if help was needed.

'Speak,' the clan chief said with crossed arms. 'Who are you and what do you want?

'I am Legolas, prince of Mirkwood.'

'I am Glorfindel, warrior of Rivendell.'

'Rivendell? You have come a long way for a missing woman,' the chief observed.

'I came a long way for an unnecessary battle,' Glorfindel replied coolly.

The two men appeared to size up their companions before speaking.

'I am Saeros, chief of this village.'

'I am Tuor, Lasswen's stepfather.'

At the mention of Lasswen's name, Legolas started to tremble with rage.

'I found Lasswen near our Western border about a fortnight ago,' the prince told Saeros. 'She was weak with thirst and hunger, and her body was covered in large bruises.'

The chief remained silent.

'Upon closer inspection, I realized that two of her ribs were broken and her ankle was twisted. When I asked her what happened, she said . . .' Legolas paused for a moment, then, '. . . she said _he _did it – her stepfather.'

'Lies,' Tuor spat. 'That little vixen is telling lies. I would never lay a hand on her.'

'She ran away from home,' Legolas continued, ignoring Tuor's comments. 'She could not live there any longer. It is not a suitable place for a young woman to live.'

'Our village?' Saeros inquired, but Glorfindel shook his head.

'Nay, _his _home.'

'Surely you do not believe them, my lord?' Tuor said to the village leader. 'They have kidnapped her and now they want to get rid of us so there is no one to lead the battle.'

'You can ask her yourself if you would like,' Glorfindel said. 'However, she may be hesitant to see _him _again.'

'What then, Tuor?' Legolas said with a sweet cruelty. 'Will you be hanged? Or banished?'

Tuor paled slightly and did not reply.

Saeros looked from one elf to the other, as if trying to decipher whether or not they were telling the truth.

'Where is Lasswen now?' he asked.

'In the palace,' Legolas said.

'Is she being taken care of? Is she safe?'

'Always.'

If Saeros saw the glint of brotherly protection in the prince's eyes, he did not comment on it.

'My lord?' Tuor inquired uncertainly.

'Come,' Saeros said suddenly. 'We have a battle to continue.'

Legolas and Glorfindel looked at him in surprise, but his back had already turned.

'Good decision, my lord,' Tuor said, sighing in relief.

'I certainly think so,' Saeros said. 'Those orcs will never know what hit them.'

The elves' ears perked up slightly.

'Orcs?' Tuor asked.

'Aye, the orcs,' Saeros responded. 'Who else is going to help the elves get rid of the orcs if not us?' He turned back and secretly winked at the two elves.

'Well, I'll be,' Glorfindel murmured, chuckling.

'But, my lord, what about Lasswen?' Tuor questioned.

'What about her? She is safe with the elves. If she ever wants to return, she shall. Now _you_, Tuor . . .'

Tuor cowered away from the sudden rage that emanated from Saeros' being.

'. . . You have been warned on previous occasions. I have heard complaints about you before and reports concerning your . . . aggression, but I often overlooked them since you were such a valued member of our community . . . No longer.'

'My lord, surely you do not mean—?'

'You are banished, Tuor. Go spread your filth in other areas of Middle Earth, for it is not wanted here.'

Satisfied with the way things had turned out, the elves followed them to rejoin the battle . . .

. . . Except now, instead of the elves versus the men and orcs, it was elves and men versus the orcs, just like days of old . . .

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**Chapter 6.5**

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With the men on their side, it did not take long for the elves to force the orcs to flee. Mirkwood was safe once more . . . for the time being . . . The elves knew that Mirkwood would never be completely safe, for a shadow was constantly growing the in the East . . . So the Elves tried to make the most of their times of peace. There was to by merrymaking tonight, both to celebrate the victorious battle and to introduce Lasswen to her new life in Mirkwood . . . not to mention the sudden disappearance of Lasswen's cruel stepfather . . .

There was so much joy in the Elven lands . . . but there was pain as well. Warriors, brothers, friends, fathers . . . all had been lost during the battle. Tears poured down the cheeks of young elflings as they clung to their mothers, widows sought the open arms of friends, warriors mourned together for their fallen comrades . . .

But through it all, there was only one elf that Glorfindel's heart ached for.

Once the battle was over, he returned to the Healing Houses and waited anxiously by Erestor's side, yearning for him to wake up. He called his name numerous times and sang him songs from Gondolin . . . but the elf never opened his eyes.

'How long will it be before he awakens?' Glorfindel asked a Healer for what might have been the fiftieth time.

'I do not know, my lord,' the Healer admitted. 'These things take time.'

'Perhaps you would wish to join the festivities, my lord?' another Healer suggested. 'We can send word if anything changes.'

'Nay,' Glorfindel refused politely. 'My heart does not feel like merrymaking tonight.'

'As you wish.'

And the Healers left him alone in the room with the sleeping elf.

"Wake up, Erestor," he mentally called to the fallen advisor, allowing his eyes to fall shut. "Please, wake up. At this moment, nothing would make me happier than to see you wake up and tell you all the things that I have wanted to tell you for a long time . . ."

'Glorfindel . . .' Erestor mumbled in his sleep, and the blond's eyes shot open . . . but that was all there is.

Weary from the battle, Glorfindel pulled a chair up to the other elf's bed and rested his head down on his folded arms.

'I will be here when you awaken, Erestor, my Erestor,' he said, before succumbing to his fatigue and falling asleep.

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'He really does seem to love him, does he not, Legolas?' Lasswen asked, watching Glorfindel from the doorway.

'Aye,' Legolas agreed, allowing an arm to drape casually over her shoulder.

They had come to the Healing Houses in search of Glorfindel, hoping to lure him away to the festivities. Upon seeing this intimate scene, however, they changed their minds and decided that it was best not to intrude on this private moment.

'From what I am aware of, they have just met recently in Rivendell,' Legolas said, taking a sip from his wine glass.

'Well, love works in strange ways,' Lasswen said with a soft glint in her grey eyes. 'I hope that when I am in love, I will experience the same type of feelings that Glorfindel is feeling now, except . . .'

'Except?'

'. . . I would want my lover to be conscious,' she teased.

'I am uncertain about that,' Legolas said, rotating his glass in his hand.

'What do you mean?' she asked, sipping from her own glass.

'Well, whoever you choose, he would have to get through me first,' he said toughly.

Lasswen swatted him on the arm playfully and the two of them left, making their way back to the Great Hall.

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That night, Erestor awakened slowly; the ache was subsiding from his body and his thoughts were beginning to clear. His eyes fluttered open and took in unfamiliar surroundings.

"The Healing Houses," he realized, seeing a basket of herbs and a roll of bandages on a dresser nearby.

Very slowly and very carefully, lest the pain return, Erestor sat up . . . and was pleasantly surprised to see Glorfindel sleeping peacefully at the side of his bed.

'Glorfindel,' Erestor called softly, and the golden elf immediately woke up.

'Erestor!' he exclaimed. 'You are awake!' He looked as if he would like nothing better than to rush up to the elf and take him into his arms, but he restrained himself to prevent the elf from further harm. 'How are you feeling?'

'Like I have been hit with a boulder,' Erestor replied with a hesitant grin.

'I . . .' Glorfindel began, but then he trailed off as if uncertain what he should say.

'I . . . I am happy that you are here, Glorfindel,' Erestor said, somewhat flustered at his nearness.

Glorfindel smiled and laid a trembling hand on Erestor's own.

The other elf looked at it for a moment and his whole body stiffened in response.

'I apologize!' Glorfindel said quickly. 'I must have been caught up in the moment.'

'Glorfindel, listen, I . . .' Now it was Erestor's turn to trail off uncertainly.

'Erestor . . .'

'Are we friends, Glorfindel?' the advisor asked suddenly.

'Yes,' the blond slowly replied. 'But . . . if you would allow me to . . . to . . . er . . . court you, perhaps we can become something more . . .?' Glorfindel said boldly, a reddish hue appearing on his cheeks.

'Oh,' Erestor said.

'Of course, if you do not want—' Glorfindel hastily began, but Erestor interrupted him.

'I am flattered, Glorfindel,' he said. 'Yes, I would be honoured if you court me.'

'Are you sure?' Glorfindel asked. 'Because if not, we can remain friends . . . but if you really do want me to be your lover then . . .' The warrior sighed and ran a hand through his hair in agitation. 'I am doing this all wrong. I apologize, Erestor. I know that I must be coming on a little quickly – I hardly know you! But . . .' He looked directly into the advisor's eyes now. 'But I know that I have never felt this way before. I do not want to frighten you away, but I want you to know that nothing would make me happier.'

Erestor watched him silently.

'May I court you?' Glorfindel finished.

'Yes, I would be honoured,' Erestor said again, 'but . . .'

'But?'

'But I am afraid, Glorfindel.'

'Afraid?' Glorfindel echoed, shifting himself from the chair to the bed, beside Erestor. 'What are you afraid of?'

'That you may discover I am not good enough for you,' Erestor replied, allowing his defenses to crumble.

'Why would you ever think that, Erestor, dear Erestor?'

'You are a warrior of Rivendell! I am just a lowly advisor . . . Anyone would choose you over me. Is that not obvious?' Erestor hung his head in shame.

'I would not,' Glorfindel said quietly.

Erestor looked up to gaze into the warriors deep eyes.

'And I never want you to think that way! I just want you to be yourself and not try to change yourself into something that you think I may like "better".'

'But what if you are displeased with whom I turn out to be?' Erestor said shakily.

'I could never be displeased with you, Erestor,' Glorfindel said, moving closer. 'You make me happy . . .'

And then they kissed.

Their first kiss.

It was everything that Erestor had expected it to be – soft and hard at the same time, gentle and firm, tender and loving . . .

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Good and evil…

Sun and moon…

Water and fire…

Everything was composed of a duality, opposites, each concept of dark countered by a stream of light.

Erestor was the personification of "duality", for he led two different lives—one around his closest friends, and the other around everyone else. To some, he was a comfortable presence—a strong, supportive friend and ally. But to many, he was naught more than the Chief Advisor of Lord Elrond, an experienced, rather intimidating intellectual of high status in the hierarchy of Rivendell. But

It was the first lifestyle that he chose to show now. It was this first lifestyle that Glorfindel fell in love with.

It was the only lifestyle that Glorfindel would ever see from this point forward.

Now they could whistle together . . .

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_Author's Note: Hey everyone. I'm sorry I haven't been updating as often as I – and you! – would have liked, so I thank you all for your patience and loyalty to reading this till the end. lol. I hope that you enjoyed this final installment and have some constructive criticism to offer me ;) Cheers!_

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